The Earl's Entanglement (Border Series Book 5)(45)

Emma wanted to be angry with Edith. She wanted to rail at her, at the Earl of Magnus and his daughter, and at their whole sorry situation.

But she would not, of course. It was no one’s fault that she’d allowed herself to fall in love with a man who was promised to another.

No one’s fault but her own.



“Have you gone stark raving mad?” Conrad asked. “What are you still doing here?”

He should never have told Conrad the truth.

Garrick had returned to Clave, the torturous ride from Kenshire one of the longest of his life, despite the fact that it was but a few hours away. He’d arrived before the tide could wash away the footpath leading from the shore to the castle gates, allowing him and his men safe passage before the rising tide turned Clave into an island once again.

Looking out of the window of the same solar where he’d taken advice from his friend before his fateful trip to Scotland, Garrick tried to remember the man he had been then.

A son without a father. An earl, a man with as much power as any in Northumbria. But not enough, apparently, to control his own destiny.

“Garrick, think on it. You cannot break this betrothal.”

“’Tis done, Conrad.” Or it would be soon. He’d already sent a contingent of men from Kenshire straight back to Linkirk to change the date of the wedding and summon his mother back to Clave. They’d been less than pleased with the prospect of returning to Scotland so soon, especially since they were less than a day’s ride away from home, but he hadn’t dared send a sole messenger.

Conrad sat with his legs and arms crossed on the wooden chair Garrick’s father had often occupied. His friend was a very different man from the former earl. Their loyalty and ferocity in battle, whether on the field or in a tournament, had united them. But any similarities between the two ended there.

“Why are you smiling?” Conrad asked.

Garrick couldn’t resist. “You are unique, Conrad.”

“And you are a dead man.” Never one to circumvent an uncomfortable topic, much like Emma, his friend was direct and possibly correct. He knew what his decision might cost him.

“I’ve no choice,” he said, trying to explain.

“Of course you have a choice. Marry the Scottish lass.”

“I cannot.”

As was his custom, Conrad was not intimidated by a look meant to silence him. “You must.”

“I love her, Conrad.”

His friend’s eyes widened as large as two round shields. Earls did not marry for love. Even baron’s sons, like Conrad, married for advantage.

But he could not do it. Not now that he knew Emma was out there, that he could love in such a fierce manner.

“She is . . .” He thought back to last eve. “Extraordinary.”

“Garrick, if she were the Queen of England, it would not—”

“What is the one thing that annoys you most about me?”

Conrad snorted. “That you cannot visit the garderobe without a plan? That you overthink everything until you—”

“She is just the opposite. Emma is . . .” How could he explain her best? “She doesn’t think, she acts. And everyone around her is better for it. Aye, she’s beautiful, but—”

“And now you’re a bard.”

“There’s something there. Before I knew who she was. Something, Conrad, I’ve never experienced with a woman. Like a pull to—”

“Start a war with your mother’s relatives?”

Garrick clenched his fists. “You are a singular ass.”

“Why did you agree to the betrothal?”

In a rare display of seriousness, Conrad uncrossed his arms and legs, and sat forward, his elbows propped on his knees, his expression somber.

“Garrick?” he pressed.

Why? He’d asked himself the same question so many times in the past weeks.

“Because you encouraged it,” he shot back, still standing at the window.

Conrad didn’t respond. He merely quirked an eyebrow, silently communicating that Garrick had a better answer.

“Why? You know exactly why! Because the alliance will secure Linkirk. It will tighten our ties to our northern neighbors, convince those who are not yet convinced that peace along the border is possible.”

Conrad cleared his throat.

“Dammit, Conrad. What do you want me to say?” His skin tingled as beads of sweat began to form around his temples.

He knew the answer Conrad wanted. But he was still loath to think about it. Because it was the one thing, the only thing, that was keeping Emma from being his.

“Garrick?”

“To appease my mother.”

He let the words hang in the air like a morning fog. He had agreed because it was what his mother wanted. And after his father had been killed because of him, it was the least he could give her.

You did not kill your father.

He’d begun to believe her. Because he wanted to believe her. But his father was dead, and he had now set a path in motion that would ruin his mother as well. She would be forced to return to England. She would lose the one bit of comfort she had left.

“Bollocks, Conrad. What have I done?”





17





He would make it right. Somehow he would make it right. Somehow he’d find a way to fix this without giving her up.